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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020696">Ghost Cycle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rand0m_Reader/pseuds/Rand0m_Reader'>Rand0m_Reader</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoptive Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Author Is Sleep Deprived, Childinnit, Clara (video blogging rpf), DadSchlatt, Dadza, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Ghost TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ghost Wilbur Soot, Ghostbur, Happy TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Hybrid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Memory Loss, Multi, No One Is Okay, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Raccooninnit, Sad Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Toby Smith | Tubbo, Sad Wilbur Soot, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Technoblade Has Braided Hair (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo Angst, Toby Smith | Tubbo Misses TommyInnit, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings, ghostinnit, l'manberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:00:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020696</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rand0m_Reader/pseuds/Rand0m_Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy was 5 when he lost his mother,<br/>Only a month later when he got 2 new brothers,<br/>2 years later came another,<br/>Now 16 how’s he supposed to recover?<br/>_____<br/>Tommy is dead, he’s a ghost too, but not like Ghostbur, or at least not how you think he is,</p><p>Note: Inspired by the Ghostinnit fics you guys have on this platform, lemme get a bite of this angst feast.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>All platonic baby, No Romantic Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>303</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ghost Cycle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Family Explained:<br/>Philza (Dad)<br/>Technoblade and Wilbur (Adopted Twin Older Brothers)<br/>Tubbo (Adopted 2nd youngest)<br/>Tommy (Biological and youngest son)<br/>FYI, I just thought of an AU in which Tubbo is Schlatt’s son, are nice little sprinkles for the “if I can’t be the next Schlatt, you can’t be the next Wilbur” line.</p><p>Also, I saw Racconinnit fanart and just... my sleep-deprived brain went bing! and just went, what if Tommy was a Raccoon Hybrid and like the many mythos/folklore with raccoons changed his shape to look human out of insecurity. I would fix that plot point since it was added when it wasn't part of the original plan but I'm too lazy to fix.</p><p>Also boat load of angst, sorry there’s a lot,</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dead child, Scared child, He's going to find solace in a place he doesn't remember at all. Techno finds a younger version of his brother in his basement,</p><p>The author finishing this at 1:00 am in the morning so not the best quality, forgive me.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy was cold, his body felt like it was dowsed into a freezing river before waking up to this place. Where was this anyway? He seemed to be floating in nowhere, was this what Ghostbur was talking about when he spoke of death? Kind of drearily if you asked Tommy. “Hello?” His voice echoed around the nothingness, Tommy tried to cup his hands together, only to see that his hands weren’t there. His body wasn’t there, it wasn’t like some gory, ‘oh his hands are chopped off’ find of gone, it was an ‘oh lord I look invisible’ kind of gone. <br/><br/></p><p>
  <em>“I’m never going to leave you, Tommy,”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>”They’re your new brothers now Tommy!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>”Let’s be best friend’s Tommy!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>”Welcome to SMP Earth Tommy!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>”Stop it, Tommy!" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Do whatever what you think is good Tommy," </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I revoke the citizenships of Wilbur Soot and Tommyinnit!" </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Let's be the villains Tommy," </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Stays in the pit, Tommy," </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Nothing good happens to heroes Tommy," </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'm going to have to exile you, Tommy," </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'm your <strong>friend</strong> Tommy," </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The voices cut off like a radio wire connection, warmth filled his body, except it felt like he was burning, like a cigarette bud from his head to the tips of his toes he gripped his head, his hands gripping onto his hair as he let out a silent scream. Tommy felt soft fuzzy ears under his hair, panic struck him like a bolt, but it disappeared like a vanishing memory, everything felt tilted and slipping, like his mind was a rocking deck of a ship in a storm everything was fading, as Tommy tried to grab onto small memories. </p><p> </p><p>A van, he thinks it got destroyed a couple of times,</p><p>A boy, brown hair, goat horn nubs, and... bees for some reason,</p><p>A cold place,</p><p>Masked Man, </p><p>Servers,</p><p>And... and what? What came next? What was before that, Who was he?  How-</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tubbo rushed through Logesdhire, "Surely not, surely not, Tommy?!" He yelled, voice somewhat echoing around the crater that still had some logs clinging to the ground, a place that he had foolishly exiled his friend to, why was he so stupid? Tubbo couldn't directly look at the pillar, it just made him feel worse, made him feel terrible, yet as he looked at it once more a little bulb of hope slowly flickering out. </p><p>If Tommy really was dead, there should be a body, right? Maybe then he could hold a funeral, something at least, to do something as an apology. Tubbo curried the place, his heart still hoping that he finds nothing, that Tommy made a last-ditch effort and splashed into the ocean and is still alive, that was until his foot caught something. </p><p>"Tommy?" He was horrified the pale face of his once energetic friend stared back at him, unblinking, dark bags under his eyes, his red and white shirt ripped and dirty. He looked so peaceful yet tortured like he was pushed to the very edge of his sanity.</p><p><em>he really does look like corrupted Wilbur</em>. A soft voice </p><p>Not noticing the now pointing compass, dropped once again onto the ground, a teenage boy picked up his best friend’s body, trudging back to the land that they’ve fought for. </p><p>"We're going to need a funeral," </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>A sharp red light shone upon his eyes, he felt like he was resurfacing from the depts of the ocean, choking, he was there just on a beach, he was smaller, younger, and knew nothing, he was in a red and white sweater, too big for his small frame.</p><p>He stood up and walked, wandering around the surroundings looking upon a crater that brought him an unknown twinge of sadness, his mind felt fuzzy, static, his eyes felt weird like an itch that couldn't itch. Scanning his memories, trying to recollect the events that lead him here, while he shuffled past the craters that were near the beach, the ocean seemed welcoming, but he didn't feel like going in for a swim. </p><p>The trees welcomed him, climbing over hills and pushing past branches he, though young, made a list of what he remembered mentally, </p><p>
  <em>"You should always make a note of things that happen, especially the memorable ones. Everything that happens is important, and it makes us who we are."  </em>
</p><p>Someone had told him this... who though? He could have brushed it off and continued walking until a name bubbled up from the depths of his mind, murky and still fuzzy. </p><p><em>Clara</em> </p><p> </p><p>Tommy knew her, he knew he knew her, and like a small piece of a dam chipped away, a small leak of memories flooded in after it. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>His mother, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She used to kiss him goodnight,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They liked listening to music,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Two disks were their favorite,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They'd sit together on his bed while the jukebox played the songs, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>She collapsed one day,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was sitting by a bed crying, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her hands were cold, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>His father was crying, </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was crying, </em>
</p><p><em>He was sad, </em> </p><p> </p><p>It was strange, nothing was complex to him, He knew that at one point to him things did look complex as they were, but now he just saw black and white, good emotions are good cus they make you happy, bad emotions are bad because they make you sad, it was as much as his 5-year-old brain could comprehend. All he knew was that he was dead, and that scared him, and being scared was a bad emotion, he wanted it gone. </p><p>Music filled the swampy air, the swamp biome around him was thinning, he didn't know where he was heading but a single location seemed to burn in his mind, he thought maybe this was something he knew while alive or something he just made up out of shock as to have some sort of destination. The music however was what his young mind was focused on for the moment, he looked around for the unknown source, but found none. </p><p>A quick glimpse at the water underneath him gave him a resemblance of an answer. His irises were pupilless, purple and striped pink spinning around and around as the black center of his eyeballs twirled like a disc in a jukebox, it truly was a disturbing sight, as he can see straight, clear, and was not dizzy despite the swirling eyeballs. When he shut his eyes the music stopped, when they opened once more the music started up again from the stop, he fooled around and blinked several times just to hear the music start up again, and again, and again. </p><p>The music was nice comfort in the lonely silence, as he went along his way further through the samp with more vigor as the music seemed to compel him to keep on moving forward. </p><p>Snow 'touched' the sole of his bare ghost feet, music changed and danced through the freezing air as he looked around the white plains and mountains. He felt accomplished somehow as though he had finally reached somewhere he should be and that there was only one more thing to do. As he continued through the snow, the winds not bothering him, maybe a perk of being dead.</p><p>The music changed as he looked upon a new structure silhouetted in the distance, he couldn't identify the name of it yet, but it was on the tip of his tongue, but the music kept him going, ignoring the slow amounting pain in the back of his mind. </p><p>The door creaked open as he fell down onto the floor of the home that he broke into, he was sure he would be safe here, who's home was this anyway? A name seemed to rise slowly to his mind, already knowing what will happen he braced himself, </p><p>
  <em>Technoblade</em>
</p><p>If remembering his mother was painful and confusing this was that times 10. Yes, he knows his numbers he's 5, not a stupid baby. It was like remembering a nightmare, things that scare you but you can't fully remember as they kept slipping away once you catch them. Disappearing one by one, but he felt bad emotions in each and every one of them, sadness, anger, disappointment. The music around him grew eery, it was something like from a horror film, like the one he had accidentally watched and his mother and father had found him curled up and crying out of fear.</p><p>Overwhelming tiredness hit him, new memories flooding in too quickly that a headache grew, a feeling of something piercing his skull. He had to find somewhere safe, somewhere quiet, somewhere to hide. As darkness consumed him, the music stopping as his eyes closed. Who knew ghosts could still move while passed out? </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Techno was not having a nice day, not at all, he was attacked, nearly executed, and now he found a hole in his floor which lead him to a very <em>special</em> situation. “The heck—Eh?! Why is this down here?” He gazed around the piss-yellow ‘room’ there was a makeshift bed, a chest, and scratch marks on the walls with crudely done finger paintings on the walls. As he stared longer he noticed that he wasn’t along, shifting his sword out of his inventory and into his hand he took a step forward to the huddled being in the corner it’s back facing Techno. </p><p>They wore one of Wilbur's old beanies that seemed to be pulled down by small hands, as though to cover something that the child wanted no one else to see. Their form seemingly looked wispy, reminding him of Ghostbur, were there any other ghosts except Ghostbur? Techno had heard of Schlatt's ghost just wandering around the server thanks to certain unexplained events. Perhaps this ghost was someone who lived on the land and died here a long time ago and no one noticed, someone who died from the cold maybe. </p><p>It wasn't until the ghost turned around that Techno had some sort of recognition towards them, even if he didn't look like at all how Techno last saw him. </p><p><br/>“Tommy?”</p>
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